


Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by feverbeats



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-12
Updated: 2010-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-10 02:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last year was bad, with the Occlumency, but this is bloody monstrous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Contains some movieverse canon

  
**Severus**

There's no sense lying about it: Severus is afraid. The only person who's cared about in him the past sixteen years is dying, he's fighting the Dark Lord with his mind daily, and now this.

_This_ being the problem with Potter.

He has her eyes, but it's not about that. Not for a fucking second. Severus won't _let_ it be.

Worse is the information Severus has been getting from Slughorn. Potter has been walking the halls of Hogwarts with the Dark Lord's words in his mouth, and while Dumbledore may be guiding his steps, the tactics are Potter's own.

Last year was bad, with the Occlumency, but this is bloody monstrous. The Dark Lord's mind has never been so close to Severus's, not even when he was shoving his way into it without permission. Now, though Potter, he can nudge at Severus's private thoughts without warning or hope of escape. It's dangerous, that's what it is.

What all of this adds up to is that Severus doesn't know if the trouble with Potter is being caused by the Dark Lord or by Severus's own fucking imagination. He's always wanted dangerous things, things that are bad for him, but this trouble is on an entirely new level.

Severus has hated too long and too well to allow the hatred to burn into lust now. That's a young man's mistake, and although he's only thirty-six, he's lived long enough that he should know better. All of Severus's hate is dusty and well-kept, and it cannot catch fire now.

Perhaps this is happening because everything in Severus's life is sliding just south of normal. He's finally teaching his dream subject, but that's harder than expected in ways he wasn't ready for. Dumbledore was right, perhaps, to keep the dark arts just out of Severus's reach for so long. Addicts are always addicts.

The teaching position, the spying, and Dumbledore's flagging strength all mean Severus's defenses are worn down about as far as they can possibly go.

There are reasons doing anything to split the tension between himself and Potter open would be wrong, but they're not the reasons they should be. Age and power and things like that don't factor into Severus's equations after all this time, but hatred does, and spite, and jealousy.

He swore one day that from that point forward, his life would unravel uncomplex and stark, but that was a lie. He'd almost rather give in and touch Potter than continue like this.

**Harry**

Harry is sixteen and Harry is afraid and so he is damaging things. Dumbledore has given him the tools he needs, Tom Riddle's words and face, and now he's just trying to use them to the best of his abilities.

Mostly sixteen-year-olds don't have the power to ruin things on such a grand scale, but Harry's life is very different from that of most sixteen-year-olds. And so it is that he keeps dreaming about Snape and then waking up and making things worse. Today in Defense Against the Dark Arts he made himself hold Snape's gaze for ten seconds for no reason and neither of them were even glaring.

Tonight, he's lying in bed with the Marauder's map propped against his knees and no idea if the information on it can help him. He feels too close to too many things that are bad for him, Voldemort's memories bumping up against his all day long.

He touches the parchment of the map and it feels cool and dry in a hot, wet world. Then the ink of Draco Malfoy's feet pools under his fingers and he's right back where he started. He doesn't dare flip and turn and twist the map until it shows Ginny. He doesn't want to catch fire that badly.

His head aches from studying the map and his hands ache from hating, from being balled into helpless fists.

Everything inside him is far too worn down for sleep, so he just lies awake, not dreaming of Tom Riddle and not dreaming of Snape. It's funny, but right now Harry only has two refuges from all the weirdness and tight fear of Tom Riddle, and those are Snape and the Half-Blood Prince. They're perfect reflections of each other: Snape cruel and rigid and the Prince laughing and changeable.

But both of them are such a relief after days reeling from Dumbledore's memories. The Prince is new and useful and Snape is an old, safe hatred, and Harry feels a shock of relief whenever he spends time thinking about either of them.

The only commonality between them is potions, but potions is a subject that has been ruined for him Slughorn and everything that goes along with him.

Harry gets an hour's sleep before dawn, and he dreams of black, swirling mixtures and long, thin fingers. He doesn't know whose they are, but he knows they're not his.

He feels jittery and ill all through the next day, so he makes his excuses to Ron and Hermione and lingers after Defense Against the Dark Arts. He's spent weeks lingering behind in Potions, and horribly, he's getting used to it. He just wants something new, something his _own_.

**Severus**

Severus forces himself to turn and face Potter, who is standing right in the center of the classroom and making no move to leave. So this is how it all culminates: disaster, fresh and crashing and liquid. It occurs to him that maybe he won't have to burn after all, but drowning was never an attractive alternative.

"Professor," Potter says, still with that trace of irony that's been creeping into his voice all year.

"Potter," Severus says, trying to fight the feeling of being trapped that's so reminiscent of the times he's been caught between the Dark Lord's mind and a wall.

And then Potter is moving forward too quickly and with too much self-assurance to be the same boy Severus has hated for all these years. Now he's getting in Severus's airspace and looking like fear. His green eyes flicker, _Lily Evans and Tom Riddle_.

So Severus kisses him, grabs him by the front of the damn robes and pulls him close, almost tender because he's afraid to be anything more violent. If he didn't do it, Potter would have, and that would have been worse. Severus's soul is already old and splintered.

Potter kisses very much like no one but himself, awkward and teenage and angry. The kiss goes on too long, with neither of them pulling back. Then Potter breaks away, but not far enough, mouthing words that come out as a sibilant hiss.

Severus jerks back, horrified. "What?" His voice sounds raw in his own ears.

Potter shakes his head, looking rebellious. "What?"

"Parseltongue. You speak it when you're . . ." He rubs a hand over his face, dizzy. "I can't. I cannot do this."

Potter takes a few stumbling steps backward, finally out of Severus's reach "I have to go," he says, as though that's answer enough to any of this.

After he's gone, Severus paces the room, twisting his wand in his hands and stirring a potion for nothing. There is no spell, no potion that will sweep his life clean, though, and he has papers to grade anyhow.

He takes a breath to see if he can. When it finally stops hurting to breathe, he sits down at his desk and gets back to work.


End file.
